


Masquerade

by Blue_Sparkle



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A smal fic for my friend's prompt "The Doctor and the Master in a masked ball" 5th Doctor/Ainley!Master. Inspired by the dream scene in 'Labyrinth'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masquerade

Title: Masquerade  
Pairing: 5th Doctor/Ainley!Master from Doctor Who  
Doctor Who doesn’t belong to me; I just wrote this for a friend who wanted a fic with a masquerade. 

 

All around him was laughter, music and the glistering rain of silver confetti and streamers. The Doctor made his way through the room, watching in a dreamy state of detachment as the colourful couples swirled around him. 

The Manlusian balls were known for that dreamlike state one would find themselves in, the intense colours, dresses with enormous quantities of lace and ribbon, pompous masks that hid the wearers so well that they seemed to be the actual, bizarre face. Compared to the Manlusians the Doctor, who’s choice in clothes usually made him sticking out, looked a little inconspicuous. 

He had chosen a beige costume with red linings, not unlike his usual cricket-outfit, and a simple white mask. Amidst the glistering and rich colour-medley he was one clear spot and most did not pay much attention to him.

Leaning against a silver candelabrum the Doctor looked around for orientation. Not the easiest undertaking, as Mandalusian ballrooms have crooked walls that are covered in mirrors, reflecting a multitude of every dancer.

Someone catched the Doctor’s eye; a man on the other side of the room, dressed in black velvet with silver embroilment. Behind a silver mask clear blue eyes were fixed on the Doctor, sending a soft shiver down his spine. 

He felt the urge to move towards him, to cross the room and reach out but the moment he made a step the other moved, too. Dancing couples blocked their eye contact and when they had passed the Doctor couldn’t spot the other anymore. 

He walked through the crowd, searching, chasing, getting lost in the whirl of the dance. Now and then he would see him, glimpses of black and silver, coming closer, disappearing, reflected in the mirrors and sending him off track. 

The dancer’s pace was faster now, glittery confetti landed on the Doctor’s head and slid on to his shoulders or got tangled up in his hair. The music overlapped every sound and the time lord’s head was spinning, he felt all orientation slip away he reached out his hand, instinctively searching for some kind of support. Black leather brushed against his skin and fingers curled tightly around his own.

The Doctor blinked and moved his gaze from the hand up to the blue eyes. Neither said a word when the Master bowed his head slightly and wrapped his free hand around his waist while the Doctor placed his on the shorter man’s shoulder. 

They joined the dance wordlessly, both knew who the other was but wouldn’t voice the wrongness of the situation; that could wait. The other pairs seemed to make way for the time lords, leaving them in the eye of the wild storm of disordered celebration. Their bodies where close, far too close under normal circumstances. The Doctor looked around and saw their reflections, swirling through the room, a constant change of beige and black, the Master’s fingers sprawled over his back in sharp contrast; they looked like ivy spread over the wall. 

Occasionally the Doctor’s eyes flickered over to the others but each time he looked back the Master’s eyes were still fixed on him. He never looked where he led them but they never collided with someone or something. 

The music drowned out all the sounds, it felt as if they were in their own personal world.

The Master pressed his cheek to the Doctor’s, bringing his lips close to his ear: “Doctor.” It wasn’t more than a whisper and it was the first word he spoke on that evening. “Let us go!” 

A shiver ran down his spine and his hand clenched but the Doctor nodded. The Master moved back a little so that they could walk side by side, but he didn’t release the Doctor’s hand or waist. He led him through the masses to the exit and the thought of where they were headed made the Doctor’s cheeks flush red. 

But tonight was a ball of masquerade, tonight the real world and the real enmities had no meaning, they would ignore the reality. Tomorrow, yes tomorrow they would put on their mask and continue with the routines of reality.


End file.
